


Recall

by PersonalityTest



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3944233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonalityTest/pseuds/PersonalityTest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you know that when you look at me, I see the war reflected in your eyes? Slaine-centric, AU-ish. Orangebat if you squint. Part 2 of Retrace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recall

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's not as good as the first, but oh well. I spent only like 2 hours on it so *shrug* This is for my friends over at the BRN (you know who you are) and sorry I keep interrupting your RP nights I really didn't mean to *sobs*

* * *

_–for the unkind children who ended up being kind–_

* * *

 

Why do you keep coming back? 

I don't know. Obligation. Pity. Sadistic satisfaction. A combination of the three, or none at all. 

But I have nothing else to do and eternity to wallow in self-destruction, so I tolerate your presence. So do you, I think. We talk – mostly you, though. We play chess a few times, and as expected, you always win. You call me at unexpected times and force me to eat healthy – if four egg dishes a week can be called healthy. I don't think so. 

Even then, I don't really care; because you are here. You remind me that I'm still alive – for better or for worse. You remind me that I have reached the end of my journey, and no matter my fate, I have done everything I can and accepted the consequences. I have no regrets.

* * *

_...Or at least, that was what I thought at the time._

* * *

I remember that day well. We were talking. I collapsed. The last thing I remembered was you screaming for help and the guards (they were actually nice, I wonder if they'll be elated when I'm gone or they'll mourn me just a little bit) scrambling to restart my heart.

And you...you were standing there, frozen. As if you were stranded in the middle of the ocean, as if your world was just torn to pieces in front of your eyes.

.

“You can't die.” You say it with such conviction that I almost want to believe you. 

"Kaizuka..." I try to say.

"You can't die. _You can't die_."

There is a sense of cold fury in your voice, and I don't know what else to say. What am I supposed to say to you? 'I will die whether you like it or not'? 'Leave me alone'? 'I'm so sorry'?

I'm anything but sorry, though.

I wonder, how will you look at me when I tell you that this is everything I could have wished for? My role is over. I have taken the blame for everything, as atonement for all the crimes I have committed. I have accepted that I will never see the sky again or breathe fresh air again. This news is more of a relief, really. I have no one who will mourn my death. 

(Save for one person.)

(But she, too, thinks that I am already dead. And she'll never know that I am here. Still alive. Dying.)

(I'm so sorry, Princess Lemrina. I wish I could have given you the happiness you deserve.)

* * *

  _...Will you mourn me, when I'm gone?_

* * *

Why do you want me to live?

You say something about Her Highness Princess Asseylum, but your composure is slipping. When you are anxious or tensed up, your poker face cracks – just enough for me to guess.

Do I remind you of your victory? Or do I remind you of what you have lost?

Whichever it is, you don't care about me – as a person. I understand now. The blank look in your eyes. Your uncanny patience. I am the personification of whatever past you cling onto, and you come here (first once every three months, then once a month, once a week) to be reminded of what was done, or what could have been.

I wanted to tell you, _don't do that. There's nothing in the past; the future is what matters. Don't become like me_ , I wanted to say.

But I am petty, and I still hold a grudge, and something hurts when I realize I don't even matter to you as a person, so I keep quiet. An eye for an eye; that's how I have lived my whole life, and this is no different. If you are watching me die from that high horse of yours, then my payback would be seeing you destroy yourself. 

* * *

  _Do you know that when you look at me, I see the war reflected in your eyes?_

* * *

I don't know why I'm even surprised – you always were a miracle worker. You have always achieved everything I thought was impossible. 

"Northern Europe, where you were born. It's a small cottage out of sight, so we will not run the risk of being found out. You'll stay there until..." Your voice trails off.

Stop it.

Stop pretending that you care. 

I'm just another cardboard villain for you to defeat, another goal for you to reach. Stop looking like you pity me, like you care about me as a person. You don't. 

"We'll be going whenever you're ready. The plane is waiting for us outside."

"We?"

"I'll be moving to Europe as well to work under a branch of the UFE Strategic Division. My superiors have already authorized the change. And since you need to be...taken care of," you mince your words carefully. "I'll be living there as well, to supervise you."

.

Do you miss the battlefield that much? 

Are you scared of the end of the war that much?

And if that is the case – if you have to cling onto the only enemy left standing to live, if even though you have won you still can't find peace...

I pity you. 

* * *

  _But in the end, I can’t abandon you._

* * *

I couldn't come to like you. I still hold a grudge, after all. I can't get past my resentment for the person who kept me alive to wallow in my misery; I can't bear to look at your missing left eye; I can't see you without thinking about how I am only a tool to you. 

You don't do anything to help your case, either – you're a really _insufferable_ little idiot. I think you have a serious case of OCD, with the whole neat freak thing you have going on. We bicker over everything from the arrangement of books (you even color-code them, how weird is that?) to simple things like whose turn it is to wash the dishes and clean the house (usually me, because you are hardly ever home). You're probably the worst roommate I ever had the misfortune to have, and I know you think the same about me. However...

_"Your handwriting is intelligible." You frown at the little notes I made on the margin of my father’s research._

_"Well, don't read it, then."_

_"The way you loop your g’s and s’s looks a lot like your father’s, but it feels forced. That's not your real handwriting; you just tried to write like he did. I can also tell that you don't understand those scientific words, but you still tried to take notes on them; and this book is so tattered not because you didn't take care of it, but rather because you have read it so many times."_

_"..."_

_"In the end, no matter what happened, you just –“_

'You just couldn't abandon him.' 

That's what you said. That's all there is to it. 

That’s why, no matter what happens to me from now on, I can’t leave you alone.

You understand, right? Even if other people call it bizarre, you understand me, don't you? After all, that’s the kind of people we are. We were – _are_ , in your case – the kind that is loved, but we can't love them back (I refused my chance, and you don't know how). For us lost children, something like that one sentence, that one shred of understanding; it's enough of a reason to risk the rest of our lives for. 

I will save you. I promise.

* * *

  _Even if you are my enemy, even if you are a good-for-nothing idiot when it comes to others' feelings, even if you no longer have a purpose in life..._

* * *

Even though you are supposed to be supervising me, you don’t really do much. You give me a spare key to the house, let me walk around as I please (even though once I have walked far enough to see a town in the distance), and you never probe, never ask what I do when you’re working. I could be running away, and you wouldn’t even know until I’m already gone. And I know this is crazy, but I think you’re hoping I would run away. That would mean you have to chase me, and you’ll be able to tell yourself that the war is not over, as long as I’m alive it’s never over.

I can’t fight anymore, you know. I can’t even run five miles without risking a seizure. Right now, you’re here because you’re hoping that I will fight back and make another legacy from scratch, but I can’t do that.

…You are still running away from the truth, aren't you?

* * *

  _That's okay._

* * *

When you look at this willow tree, will you remember me?

When you visit the places I told you about – the moon base, Novolstal'sk, the Vers Imperial Castle – will you see my life flashing across your eyes?

When you hear the Princess' wish for peace, will you hear my voice in unison with hers?

When you stumble upon my father's research, will your eyes linger on my scrawled notes, even just a little?

When I'm gone, will you find another purpose to live for?

Will I be able to save you?

My wish...

Did it reach you?

I hope it reached you.

* * *

  _I want you to live._

* * *

Hey, Inaho.

I'm dying, aren't I? 

When I die, what will happen to you? What will you do to hold on to your illusion?

How funny that whenever I think about it, I suddenly hate that I'm dying. It’s your fault. You made me not want to die anymore when I’m already teetering on the edge. You’re so unwittingly cruel, it’s almost scary.

I'd hate to think that after everything I've done, I would ruin it all by leaving you alone. You're not ready to move on yet. You're getting there, but you're still clinging onto me. I still see the war reflected in your eyes. I still haven’t managed to save you – and that is my only regret.

But you have always been a miracle worker. You'll get there, eventually. One day you will return, and you'll look at the picture we took (seemingly a lifetime ago), the moment we planted that little willow tree and we were exhausted and tired and _alive_. You’ll remember the time when you were free and the war disappeared from your eyes (for just one moment, but I was so surprised and happy I didn’t care). You will open that door and say, _I’m home_ , as usual, and hear my voice telling you, _welcome home, Inaho, how was your day_ , long after I'm gone – and you’ll know.

_The war is over._

_._

_._

_._

_end._

**Author's Note:**

> You're gonna miss me when I'm gone~ \shot repeatedly  
> But seriously, that would've been great as a summary. Those of you who didn't feel much for this thing (well it IS kinda bad...) consider that the summary instead. At least it'll have some entertainment value then.


End file.
